I scrubbed a hand over my face as I kicked off my shoes and tossed my keys onto the counter. The bottle of Crown in the bottom cabinet called out to me, but the last thing I needed was to lean on whisky as a crutch. Instead, I walked over to the livingroom window and shut the curtains to block out the sun that was trying to peek through the rain clouds.
The exhaustion that overcame me as I sank down into the couch had me closing my eyes, even though it was still midmorning. But, just like every time the darkness settled in, my mind screamed to life. Even when my physical body was dead tired, my subconscious raced, on a desperate search for answers. I knew all the pieces of the puzzle, the ones the doctors and my family had filled in, but none of it felt real. The last thing I remembered before waking up in a hospital room had apparently been months prior—the day of my accident. I’d overslept that morning and hadn’t even had time to shave, because it was that or skip coffee, and working with kids required the caffeine boost. But…that was the last thing I could recall—leaving my apartment that day. Not getting into the red Mazda3 my parents had bought for me, not grabbing my usual at Joe’s—nothing. The only thing that even remotely made sense to me was that maybe the crash was too painful to remember, so my mind had blocked it out. But what I couldn’t understand was why the weeks afterward were also missing.
And sure, the time spent recovering from my injuries wasn’t something I wanted to relive, exactly, but…something didn’t feel right. The vague answers from my parents didn’t add up, and they never kept eye contact with me when I asked about the weeks after the accident. It was like something was missing, something vital that no one was telling me, and my mind couldn’t seem to rest until it knew what it was. The missing piece of the puzzle.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and put on a piece by Bach to help quiet my thoughts, and then fluffed a pillow and put it behind my head. My last day of freedom and I was spending it passed out on my couch.
Pathetic.
Tomorrow I’d be rejoining the work force, although it was a baby step, since school was out for the summer. Tutoring kids in piano would be easy enough, and it would get me out of the house. Off this damn couch. And maybe, just maybe, give me some sense of normalcy.
Whatever that was.
eighteen
OLLIE
THREE MONTHS AND way too many fucking hours. That was how long it’d been since I’d forced myself to walk out of Reid’s life.
Not because I wanted to, but because after the surgery to repair bleeding in his brain, he’d woken up with no recollection of who I was.
None.
Zip.
Zero.
And I would never, ever forget his vacant expression as he looked at me.
“Who are you?”
My smile fell as I dropped my hand from reaching out for him and somehow managed to whisper, “What?”
Reid shifted himself up on the hospital bed. “Do I know you?”
His words made the blood in my veins go cold. That voice, so curious and innocent, held none of the familiar warmth I’d come to know in the last few weeks.
No. No, this isn’t happening.He was playing a trick on me, and any second now, he’d crack a smile and say, “Gotcha.”
Any time now, Reid. Any time…
But he kept watching me, and I kept standing there staring down at the man I’d fallen for, the one looking at me with no recognition whatsoever on his face. Soon, Reid’s gaze shifted from me to the door, like he was uncomfortable with a stranger in his room.
A stranger…oh God.
Panic seized my chest, and I tried to rationalize.It’s temporary,I told myself.He just woke up. Of course things are fuzzy.But in the pit of my stomach, I knew. I knew.
I was going to be fucking sick.
I ran a hand through my hair and swallowed back the bile that tried to rise in my throat as I struggled to come up with some explanation as to why I was there. “I, uh”—my words came out hoarse, and I cleared my throat—“work here. And was just coming by to check on…things.”
“Oh.” Reid looked over at the vase of white lilies and blue hydrangeas that I’d set on the table by the window. “You brought me flowers?” he asked.
Fuuuck. The flowers. How was I supposed to explain that if he had no idea who the hell I was?
I rubbed my chest, fairly certain what I was feeling had to be indicative of a heart attack. With any luck, I’d pass out in a few seconds.
A few seconds passed. No such luck.